


'Till Death Do Us Part

by gaialux



Category: Heathers (1988)
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, F/F, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-22
Updated: 2015-11-22
Packaged: 2018-05-01 06:24:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5195504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaialux/pseuds/gaialux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Heather might be a bitch, but there is also...something...about her Veronica is drawn to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	'Till Death Do Us Part

**Author's Note:**

  * For [firstaudrina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/firstaudrina/gifts).



> Heather and Veronica are both 17yrs old during the sexual content of this fic. The beginning of this may be viewed as slightly dub-con.

"Veronica!"

She's become like a lap dog. Running to everything Heather Chandler commands and following through with more precision than she ever gave her school work. At least Heather prides her on it; rewards her. Lets  _Veronica_ join  _Heather_ and  _Heather_ and  _Heather_.

"Even the Three Musketeers had their d'Artagnan," Heather had said. She dragged her nails against Veronica's cheek. When they fell away, the sensation lingered and sent goosebumps erupting across Veronica's entire body.

"Yes?" Veronica now asks. Croquet mallet resting precariously under her arm. It's just the two of them -- with Heather winning because that's what Heather does.

"How do you feel about murder?"

"Murder?"

"Yes." Heather hits the ball smoothly through the hoops. "Heather borrowed a book from the library about Jack the Ripper. He was a serial killer, you know."

"Yeah," Veronica says. She takes her turn. "I know."

"And they never found him." Heather isn't playing croquet anymore; she is intently watching Veronica with eyes the same kind of alight usually associated with her being a bitch to someone. "He could still be out there."

Veronica has to fight hard not to roll her eyes. "That was a few centuries ago. I'm sure he's dead by now."

"Maybe." Heather says. It's the first time Veronica's ever experienced her not snapping back at some perceived wrong. Surprising. Nice, really. Maybe this friendship could work out. "It's getting hot -- can we go inside?"

Veronica shrugs. "Sure."

Her parents aren't home. Out at some luncheon for her father and not planning to be home until after dinner -- the afternoon equivalent of brunch or something. Veronica leads Heather inside and pours them both a glass of lemonade.

"What's going on with you and JD?" Heather asks as she leans across the bench top and slides a hand out so her fingertips  _just_ miss brushing against Veronica's arm.

"Nothing," Veronica says. And she doesn't slightly choke on her drink in the process.

Heather laughs. "Try a little harder with the lies, Veronica."

"I'm not lying," Veronica says. Her conviction sounds stronger this time. "He was just helping me with calculus."

"You don't  _do_ calculus."

 _Fuck_. For someone so self-absorbed, Heather Chandler sure did seem to know a lot about Veronica's schedule and life.

"I mean geometry," Veronica stammers.

"You don't do  _that_ , either." Heather stands and moves around the kitchen until she's right by Veronica's side. Veronica keeps staring down, at the tan of Heather's arms and the stray droplet of lemonade she spilt. Heather touches her and Veronica shakes. "Why are you lying to me? Aren't we friends?"

"Sure," Veronica says. She has no idea what else to add. She's not usually like this; tongue-tied and trapped without a spitfire way out.

"He's not worth it, you know?" Heather says. She's so close that Veronica can feel warm breath flowing over her lips. "You're one of us -- a  _Heather_. Not bitch to some low-life."

"I'm not with him," Veronica says.

"Good."

Then Heather kisses her. It's rough and demanding and shocking. Veronica has no idea how to react as Heather incessantly pushes deeper, deeper, her hand twisting in Veronica's hair and tugging. Hard.

Veronica pulls away. "What are you--?"

"Don't tell me you don't want it." Heather's voice is a harsh, rugged whisper. "I see you, Veronica. I  _know_ you."

With that, Heather kisses her again. And again. And again. Until Veronica is kissing back with the same ferocity. Dragging her teeth across Heather's bottom lip. But it's Heather who bites down -- hard -- and pulls back. Veronica can both  _feel_ and  _taste_ the metallic tang of blood blooming across her tongue.

"Damn, Veronica," Heather murmurs against her mouth. Another kiss. "Didn't think you'd accept this as part of your pledge."

Veronica chooses not to think too deeply into those words. Instead she focuses on Heather's hand freeing the buttons on her cardigan. One, then  _rip_ , the seam tearing free and Heather's hands splaying across Veronica's bra.

"Always so  _practical_ ," Heather says. Veronica doesn't think her nude-coloured bra is anything particularly special, nor all that dowdy. Still, it's made short work of when Heather unhooks the back and tosses off the straps.

"Better," Heather says. There's a strong tone of satisfaction in her voice. Her eyes trail up, over, down Veronica's body before settling back on her breasts. "Much better."

"Think you're a little too dressed." Well  _that_ came out of nowhere.

Heather steps forward. " _I'm_ the one calling the shots here."

Veronica feels her cheeks heat up. So much for the façade of bravado. Her tongue now won't move and her brain is blank. All she knows is that her body is hot all over -- one part embarrassment, one part something else. 

"Leggings off."

Veronica listens. Toes off her shoes and tugs off her leggings in a way faster and more fluid than she ever has before. Veronica is standing in her kitchen, in front of Heather, in only a short blue skirt and underwear.

Veronica has never felt so exposed in her life.

"Do you know why we chose to become friends with you, Veronica?" Heather asks. She begins to stalk around Veronica; so much like a lion after the smallest, weakest gazelle in the pack. One that has just gotten its legs and is stumbling along. "Answer!"

"No...no," Veronica says. She swallows.

Heather stops behind her. Breath hot against the nape of Veronica's neck. "Because look at you -- why wouldn't we?"

It's a rhetorical question, and one Veronica doesn't have a chance to answer. Heather's hand moves too fast, her fingers sliding up under Veronica's skirt. Veronica is already wet. So wet. She had hardly noticed until now -- until her heart is pounding in her ears and every part of her body feels like it's on fire.

"Seems you're happy to be a part of us, too," Heather says. She bites down on Veronica's neck and Veronica gasps. " _Very_ happy."

Heather presses firmer and it takes all of Veronica's willpower to not rock into the hand. And Heather almost certainly knows this. She pulls away suddenly and Veronica is left aching.

"On your knees."

There isn't even a second's hesitation. Veronica is down on the cold wood floor and staring up at Heather. She looks taller than is possible and just as imposing. Veronica wants to reach out to touch or be touched.

"You know what to do," Heather says, eyes locked on Veronica's.

Veronica's hands are shaking. She knows what Heather is asking -- that much is obvious -- but Veronica's brain-to-action has short-circuited and all she can do is stare up at Heather's imposing (and hot, so hot) body.

Heather raises an eyebrow in what seems like anticipation. "Come on, Veronica." She lifts her skirt up less than half an inch. "We both know you want to."

She does. And that skirt lift was just the key to fit the lock in her brain and set everything into motion. Veronica reaches up and pulls down Heather's lacy white panties.

"Good girl," Heather says. Her voice has taken on a slightly more breathy tone already. Confidence further swells in Veronica as she kneels up higher and presses her mouth to Heather. It's warm and wet and even  _sweet_ in some recess of her mind. Heather's hands are automatically hold Veronica's head close.

Veronica licks deeper, a long strip from back to front before twisting her tongue up inside. She doesn't know exactly what to do here -- any experience with girls had been drunken fumblings -- but Heather isn't yelling or insulting, so it must be working.

The smell of Heather is all Veronica knows, and the feel of her thighs clamping down. Veronica finds her clit, circles it, and is rewarded with the sounds of Heather's breath hitching and her thighs tightening. She adds fingers, two of them deep up inside and crooking until Heather's thighs tighten even more. There would be a reason she's not giving instructions -- probably wanting Veronica to either figure it out or fail all on her own -- but Veronica is too smart for that. She sucks Heather's clit into her mouth and suckles on it until Heather is rocking into Veronica's face and then convulsing with her orgasm.

The easy way to take down the Queen Bee.


End file.
